As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. “Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said gently, “I am afraid that some fresh trouble has come to you. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past.
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